


However Spent, Our Tears are Sweat

by CarthageBurning



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Choking, Daddy Kink, F/M, I Don't Know Either, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shh just go with it, Threesome - F/M/M, Unhealthy Relationships, sansa/dirty old men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-04
Updated: 2016-11-04
Packaged: 2018-08-28 23:51:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8467789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarthageBurning/pseuds/CarthageBurning
Summary: War is hell.  War is.





	

They find her in Oldtown’s fire-bombed ruins, white nurse’s uniform stained with blood, red dipped dull brown. Ned Stark’s pretty wolf daughter. Her little delicate hands have clipped short nails, and she calls herself Alyane as she sews Beric back up. She sends him away with thirty neat stitches across his torso and an exclamation of surprise. _Harder things have tried to kill me, pretty Alyane._ She doesn’t have to know what kinds of things. 

 

He finds himself visiting her station more often than can be written off, Thoros in tow. The red priest says nothing and stares at the red roots of Alyane’s hair as Beric puts a hand on her knee. She’d been pretty in the glimpses he’d caught of her in King’s Landing, before the burning sword and the death and the mud. She’d been a child. She blushes prettily and spreads her legs for Beric’s wandering hand, says _I’m twenty two, sir._ Still a child, merely a better liar. But still he wants her. 

 

He voices as much to Thoros in the mess hall one night, mentions red hair and practical nails and how she didn’t move away from Beric’s hands. Thoros has never been able to deny him anything, much less girls with sharp icy eyes who don’t flinch away from death. 

 

Beric’s hand is up her skirt. He’s got her against the door to the nurses station, and her face is flushed. The roots of her hair are longer now, almost an inch of auburn glinting in the lamplight. _Pretty Girl_ , he whispers, fingers slipping under cotton underwear, _so warm, so willing._ Her head is tilted back now, the long curve of her neck slick with sweat and it’s almost too easy to reach up and wrap one hand around that lily white throat, so unmarred, reach one hand up and press. Those short nails dig into his forearm and she shakes apart, snarling and feral and afraid. Pretty girl indeed.

 

 _You hurt me_ , she says when he sees her next. The redness around her neck has faded, he hadn’t pressed hard enough to bruise. Thoros had said it was too much too soon, but Beric knew the kind of girl Alyane Stone was. She’d come back. Beric’s hand is up her skirt again kneeling prostrate in front of her. Thoros sits across the room, sharpening the knife he keeps in his belt.  
_I’m sorry pretty girl, I didn’t mean to._ He kisses an exposed swatch of freckled skin. _I only thought you might like it._ He doesn’t mention how she’d looked when she’d come, half wild with tears in her eyes, her hands scrabbling against his fingers. Beric presses two fingers against her core, she’s wet enough to feel through her underwear. For a minute the only sound is Thoros’ knife against steel. _I think you did like it._ He pushes her underwear to the side. Alayne (Or is it Sansa in that moment?) cries out. Thoros slides the knife across a leather cloth. _Yes._

 

Her hair is more and more red by the day. Beric pulls at it, tangles his fingers in it, tugs hard. _Look at this_ , he says. He’s got her on her knees, holding her there with one hand while he tugs at her hair with the other. _Any of your Myrish silk this nice?_  
_Seen better._  
Beric undoes the button of his fatigues. _Such a buzzkill, our red priest._ His hands tighten in her hair and when she looks up at him he thinks she might be thinking of ripping him apart. 

 

Ned Stark was a good man. Beric had fought under him once, when Robert rose up and crushed Rhaegar Targaryen's chest in. Ned Stark had fought with honor, had ruled with honor, and he had taken it to his grave. And now Beric has three fingers in his daughter’s cunt as she arches her back. Her fingers are entwined with Thoros’ as she arches her back, and Beric twists his fingers in deeper.  
_I think Thoros might want your mouth on his cock._ His free hand finds her hair and he tugs, smiling as she cries out.  
_Open._ Thoros commands and she gasps. Beric puts his mouth on her and she tenses like a predator about to strike, then opens her lips meekly. 

 

The three of them are in Thoros’ tent, and she’s naked and stretched between them, Thoros propping her up, Beric trapping her thighs together. Thoros’ flame scarred hands have found her nipples, and she’s squirming against him, rubbing her sex against Beric’s fingers. He lets her rub herself against his hand, nothing more. _Put a hand on her throat, she likes that._ Thoros does, and he presses down, till she is red in the face.  
_Please_ , she says.  
Beric lets her fuck herself on his fingers a little more, pitifully, before pushing another into her, watching her gasp out. _Do you want more?_  
The words tumble out from bruised lips, from a windpipe still constricted by a burned hand. _Please, daddy._  
She hadn’t meant to say it, the way her eyes screw shut and an apology starts on her lips. Beric grins.  
_Now, now, what would your lord father say, Sansa?_ He pushes his fingers inside her. She twists, a wolf in a trap. _What would he say if he could see you now?_ She snarls, bares her teeth, struggles. Thoros keeps a hand on her neck, and Beric crooks his fingers. _Do you think he’d turn his head in shame?_ He adds another finger, rubs his thumb over her clit, and she twitches, teeth bared. _I’ve known the whole time, pretty girl. The whole time._ Thoros presses down on her throat and her hands scramble at his forearms as Beric presses up, and Sansa comes with tears streaming down her face. _Where are your lords and ladies now, Sansa?_

 

 _You should be dead._ She’s been watching him for several minutes now, still naked with her head in his lap, her eyes shining like a predator’s.  
_Aye, I should be._ He runs a hand through her hair, red roots like veins. _But I come back._  
_When do you think your luck will run out?_ He slips a finger into her mouth, and presses it to her pink tongue. She bites down and her teeth are very sharp, sharp enough to make him bleed. _Do you think it’ll be soon?_

**Author's Note:**

> this is like 1k words of creepy under negotiated kink whoops.


End file.
